


Smokes

by WillowsMyot



Category: Alien (1979)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowsMyot/pseuds/WillowsMyot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A capture of a quiet, gentle moment between Ripley and Lambert pre-xenomorph, when all the crew knew was that they were woken up to investigate a strange transmission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smokes

**Author's Note:**

> Written partially for Femslash Feburary last month but mostly because I have completely fallen for this pairing ;_; There’s so little fic out there for these two —especially anything vaguely happy— so I saw it fit to write this.

Ripley sits alone at the central dining area on the Nostromo, cigarette between her lips, an ashtray on the table. The tap of Lambert’s boots against the ship’s floor echoes throughout the room, announcing her arrival before she’s through the door. Ripley tilts her head back to watch her enter.

Lambert is all lanky arms, pale skin, and a false swagger. She strides across the room, her hair sticking up at odd angles, lips slightly quirked. Ripley couldn’t think of anyone she desired more. She comes to a stop behind Ripley, combing her fingers through her long, curly hair. She trails her nails lightly along her scalp and Ripley lets a small, pleased hum escape her lips.

Lambert makes her way around the seats, opting to sit not next to Ripley but on the table in front of her. Ripley smiles warmly around her cigarette. “Hi.” Her voice is low, yet gentle and inviting. She takes a short puff and exhales smoke. “How’re you doing?” she asks sincerely.

“Good,” Lambert replies, pulling a pack of cigarettes out from one of the many pockets of her cargo pants. She taps one out, holds it between her lips, and lights it. “Kinda antsy,” she says on her next breath. She takes a slow, long drag, exhales, and removes the cigarette from between her lips, draping her arm across her lap. “Something about this early awakening isn’t sitting right with me.”

Ripley reaches up to soothingly stroke Lambert’s arm, eliciting a genuine smile from her. Ripley’s fingers trail down her forearm until her hand is resting on top of Lambert’s. “It’ll probably all work out fine,” Ripley says, rubbing her thumb along the back of Lambert’s hand.

“Probably,” Lambert echoes, voice tinged with sarcasm. She turns her hand over for Ripley to hold and Ripley takes Lambert’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. A slight blush tinges their cheeks. Lambert laughs to herself, happy that they’re able to have a quiet, tender moment alone together away from the rest of the crew. The two smoke in comfortable silence, the fingers of their free hands twined together.


End file.
